So, I missed Saturday and Sunday, but I am back and I am gonna stay back... away from the police line... you know, just so I don't get implicated, but still close enough so I can see what is happening.

Today, of course, is about poetry. this is the poem that I wrote today:

Saying Goodbye,

Flash Fiction Friday! Episode 1

Flash Fiction Friday is a writing exercise that I think that I came up with, but who knows if I actually am the first to think of it...

Flash Fiction Friday is the practice of writing a short story that is started and completed in an hour, then published. This exercise is to help us just let go and write. I got the idea from a starcraft caster who had the practice of broadcasting a high stress game every day just to get himself to play games, no matter how much it scared him. well here goes, the timer starts now.

this is what I got... for day one it is pretty terrible.

Flash Fiction Friday, episode 1:

About: a panda

The day was hot and humid, just like the day before, and the one before that. The bamboo was happy to have the heat and the moisture, but Hanz was not. Hanz was black. Hanz was also white. He had lived in Berlin his whole life, but the International Reunification Act, aside from making all people under one government, also made all pandas return to China. Now, it was making him miserable.

Hanz had everything that he wanted. He had food, of course, but in Berlin he had also had attention. He had millions of people come just to watch him defecate. What could be better than having someone care that he had done something that he had to do about 40 times a day. It was great to be loved for something that he was good at.  

Now, in the wilds of China, he pooped and no one cared. Not that it was the pooping that mattered, it was the attention. It was the fact that he was with a dozen other pandas that were just as good, and no one else cared.

The world revolved a few more times. Hanz hated it. Every day was warm and wet. Outside of his preserve, the world was revolting. They didn’t want unification. They wanted individuality and self-governance. And while the act benefitted the whole of the human and panda races, it continued to make individuals miserable.  

It turns out what is good for the world might not be good for you, me, or Hanz.

As the world continued to revolve and revolt, there was one man that found the universal solution. A tea made from panda waste. The tea calmed the people and gave the panda meaning.

The end…

The beginning of a habit

This is not my first attempt at a blog. I have tried several times to put together something that I can work on every day, but I have failed every previous time. 

Failure, of course, is not a reason to give up. In fact, failure is just a sign that one is trying. We all know that quote by Thomas Edison where he said that he had simply found x number of ways not to invent the light bulb. There is significant proof, in fact, that failure is one of the keys to success.

But all of that is not the point for this blog's creation today. I made this blog so that I have a place to practice writing every single day. 

So as to avoid writer's block, I have created the following schedule:

On Monday, I will write a poem.

On Tuesday, I will write part of a story that I am currently calling K. R. E.

On Wednesday, I will write something about music.

On Thursday, I will write a part of a story that I am currently calling Dichotomy.

Friday is "flash fiction Friday!"

On Saturday, I will write something about what I have learned about writing, or something new that I learned in Chinese.

On Sunday, I will write about religion and truth.

That being said, 

Here we go.